


Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

by Observing_Stellar_Motion



Category: Blaseball
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Observing_Stellar_Motion/pseuds/Observing_Stellar_Motion
Summary: A god eats a peanut.A Blaseball player is drooled on.A saint is born.
Kudos: 14





	Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

**Author's Note:**

> Random fanfic. Shoutout to the Moist Talkers on the discord, y'all rule!

"PolkaDot?"

"PolkaDot, you there?"

They sat, hands on their knees, their hair hanging in front of their face. Not hair anymore, tentacles, loose and dripping. If they weren't a Moist Talker before....well, no, they were. This was...an accessory, they supposed.

A peanut hung in the sky. 

A team that had snatched victory from another stood had faced off against a team made up of stolen players.

Fitting, in a way.

The other Moist Talkers stood, murmuring, and had sent Eugenia to find Dot.

Dot....Dot just remembered.

-  
Imagine you are in a shell. There is a subtle whiff of peanuts around you at all times. You have your phone, you can catch up on your reading. But you're still trapped. Voices are muffled. You are in a claustrophobic space that won't let you go, that exists at the will of a god that has proven to be cruel. And it smells of peanuts.

But you also hear about another God. A more merciful one, if out of ignorance if not active goodness. A god that understands the world only somewhat, that seeks to discover it. That just wants to...eat. PolkaDot knows about the idol rankings. Feels the whisperings of faith about them. The sacred statues in their name.

And people begin to carve more and more in their likeness and the whispers get louder. 

There is a leaderboard and Dot climbs it as the faithful gather.

For the player who is trapped within a prison of shell yet holds the highest spot is marked with the glyph of the Squid god. The Hungering Beast, Monitor of the Hall, Decapod and Explorer and, as many have styled it, Moist God.

Dot's god.

And the fans have thought to commune with it, through sending one of their own up.

PolkaDot knows what might happen. They are in a shell after all. They could be easily consumed and that would be that. 

But-but they remember the Bad Night. Kiki among them, so new to the Moists.

PolkaDot understands what they must do.

"Send me in."

And the idols grow in number.

And when the season ends, wrapped in faith and climbing the ranks, they feel something ripple into existence above them, even through the shell.

Messages start popping up on their phone.

"It's here."

"It's arrived!"

"Bye, Dot. See you later?"

And the shell shudders as tentacles wrap around it, and raise it, up, up into the vault of the sky that is hidden from Dot's eyes.

And then, they are hearing something. The motions of something impossibly large, and then a pressure around them. The walls of the shell push in, crack, and the light of Day 100 spills in.

But more immediately, there is a giant beak over them, chewing pieces of shell. Dot is sitting in what remains, a small bowl. 

And onto them fall fat droplets of spit from the beak. 

Gross, true, but....Dot looks up at the Squid and sees no malice. This is a creature, an inhabitant and explorer of the world. Of course it's gross! Everything that lives is.

It is gross and it is moist and as the droplets fall and dampen Dot's hair...they feel themselves understand It, a bit.

yuck

think that egg spoiled.

The voice boomed and the words were...unimpressive. But they didn't have to be. The Squid did not need gravitas, intimidation. It did what It did, and that was enough for It, and it was enough for the Moists.

And its tentacles drew up and Dot was falling, with the rest of the droplets. They were soaked entirely but it felt....right.

Their hair caught the wind, and twisted, and they felt something deep within them unspool. 

Dot felt their tentacles, and they let them fan out.

It was a long fall, but they managed to make it to their feet.

-

The moment of enlightenment did not last. Their newly changed body, reformed in the baptism of spit and in the fall, was strange to them. Strange but comforting but always strange first and foremost.

There were no more games. There was time to get used to it in the waking moments, off the field, and they spent their time tangled in their thoughts, like they were still in those tentacles.

What were they supposed to do?

The radio buzzed. 

Twitter was blowing up.

The Shoe Thieves had lost, been shamed (but not Shamed) by the Peanut, who had clearly done this out of some sick power play to prevent any further defiance. Crush your enemy, crush their spirits.

That was how war was fought.

But, came an unbidden thought, not to a squid. A squid did not fight, a squid wrestled. Found leverage. Made use of whatever came to hand, built new things.

A Squid had, in a way, built them.

PolkaDot looked to their hand, now in a more cephalopodian aspect.

The Peanut triumphed and crowed, the Squid was unsure.

But Dot wasn't.

Dot knew what they had to do.

Come the next season, a reckoning would come.

The game had been changed.

Dot had been too.

It was time to see what that meant.


End file.
